


But I know this much is true

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Of Hunters and Hellblazers [8]
Category: Constantine (TV), Supernatural, True Blood
Genre: Constandean, M/M, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly funny, slightly fluffy little interlude wherein Dean Winchester and John Constantine stop for lunch and end up encountering a certain unusually gifted waitress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I know this much is true

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from _Bad Things_ by Jace Everette which is the theme song for True Blood.
> 
> Takes place during the 'Louisiana Period' where Johnny C and Dean are sort of hunting together just prior to Dean going to get Sam (and thus the start of SPN).
> 
> All the hugs and kittens to wtinp for the beta read and the addition of much needed commas! <3

They’re driving into some little middle of nowhere town when Constantine wakes up. It’s so small and so full of jungle-like swampland that Dean doesn’t know if it even counts as a town. Maybe it's a puddle?

“Yuck. There anywhere to eat in this place? I’m bloody starving,” is the first thing the Hellblazer deigns to say to him. He yawns and shoves his sunglasses back up his nose. Probably trying to curb the perpetual hangover from the perpetual drinking.

“Really? Here?” Dean asks instead of challenging the demand. He’s already learned that _that’s_ useless.

“ _Bon Temps_ ,” Constantine says in an exaggerated French accent pointing to the sign as they pass it. “Means ‘good time’, mate. And food sounds like a pretty good time to me.”

*oOo*

Their hostess and waitress is a bubbly Southern blonde with an amazing figure. According to the little printed badge on her chest, her name is ‘Sookie’ – how much more Southern Belle could she be. She bounds up as they enter the large saloon.

“You boys here for dinner too or just drinks? The booths on the west side are real romantic this time of day?” She winks at them.

“Oh shit, we’re _not…_ ” Dean starts but the usual denials have to die on his tongue. Constantine _isn’t_ his brother. Or his father. Or anything really. And the real problem is they kind of _are_ … fuck. And John is just watching him, eyebrows raised in half-mocking expectation – watches Dean slowly strangle himself on nothing.

“Sure,” the waitress says. Doesn’t sound like she believes him but she is at least letting him off the hook. “How’s about I get you guys that booth anyway and you can figure it out from there?”

“Ta, luv." Constantine gives her one of his broad slightly lascivious grins. "Yeah, we’re eatin’. And as long as it’s in smokin’ we’ll be right any place.” She smiles back and Dean tries not to think about that at all. They’ve both got a slight gap in their front teeth. Nope. Not thinking about _that_ either. Damn it Winchester. Get it together.

Sookie laughs a little and leads them to a booth at the far end of the diner section with a sunset view - out over the scrub and a nearby lake. It is kinda nice. She hands over their menus and an ashtray for Constantine.

“Can ah get you guys some drinks while you’re deciding?” she asks. Still too bubbly to be real.

They both order beer and she trots off to fetch them. John lights a cigarette almost immediately. Of course.

The place is almost empty. Too early for the dinner crowd and too late for lunch. There’s an older woman at the bar who looks like she lives there. A trio of rednecks by the pool table. And a young guy in a deputy’s uniform having a late or early meal before or after a shift. Otherwise just them, the waitress and the short-order cook on the actual restaurant side of the place. Dean forces himself to relax. Knows he could take all three rednecks at once even if they do start trouble. And John’s the goddamn Hellblazer; if he can’t handle himself in a bar brawl what good is he?

“What the hell is ‘grits’?”

“You wouldn’t like it. It’s got a texture other than ‘grease’ and flavor... also _other_ than ‘grease.”

“Ha ha. This from a bloke who doesn’t recognise beans as a breakfast food. You think you’re funny don’t you, Winchester?”

“Yeah. So do you.”

Constantine scowls at him but doesn’t argue the point. Goes back to glaring at the menu instead. Dean gives his a quick scan but doesn’t see anything more exciting that his usual. Gives it a second run through looking for things Constantine would eat without complaining.

When the waitress returns with their drinks, Dean lets his eyes linger as she hands him his drink and smiles up at her in the way that _always_ works. He starts to halfheartedly run plays in his head. She seems like the sort that responds to flattery. Probably has no idea how cute she is. Dean makes the smile a little more genuine.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says with every inch of flirtation he can. He doesn’t have to actually pick her up to convince her that he would, right? She makes a little huffing sound that he is pretty sure is a suppressed laugh. Hmph.

“Both you boys know what you’re havin’ yet?” She turns a little frown on Constantine then.  “Ah mean pretty boy decided before he even picked up the menu… but you. Ah’m not so sure?” She sounds genuinely confused by that.

John returns her assessing look in a way that makes Dean uncomfortable. He’s not even sure why. He doesn’t normally do jealousy. Used to think there was something (more) wrong with him that he found the idea of his girlfriends or lovers with other people more hot than annoying. But the way he’s always lived it’s probably a good thing.

Dean can’t tell what he’s thinking but what John says is, “I’m pretty too, luv.” And gives the waitress one of those blindingly sly smiles.

She grins back. “In a different way,” she assures him. Even gives him an odd little pat on the hand despite the fact she avoided contact with Dean.

Dean reassesses her again. Maybe she gets off on the whole _gay_ thing. He can’t help but think of that couple in New England a few years back.  A bit of a daddy complex too probably – he can run with that.

She turns on him suddenly. “Order?” she prompts, a little bruskly. Is she blushing? He keeps up the Winchester charm anyway. She might be weird but she’s still really hot.

Constantine looks way too amused. He has that evil glint in his eye that means he thinks something is freaking hilarious and Dean hasn’t got the joke yet. Great.

“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with extra onions, thanks sweetheart.”

Sookie nods and just ticks something off on her little waiters pad. Turns to John expectantly.

“An’ you?” she asks. Much sweeter than she did to Dean.

“I dunno luv. What do you _suggest_?” Constantine looks up at the waitress with that same curious intensity that Dean is quickly learning not to trust.

“Ah… um. Ah’m not sure,” she sounds confused by her own uncertainty again. “The chef’s special is biscuits an’ gravy? It’s a local specialty – he makes the gravy with fresh eggs and home-grown green tomatah’s from mah own Gran’s garden?” She smiles brightly even though she’s obviously masking some concern that Dean can’t quite put his finger on.

“Yeah all right, pet. We’ll go with that.”

She’s turning to leave when Constantine reaches out and grabs her wrist. She looks shocked but doesn’t pull away immediately. “Listen luv,” he says in a serious half-whisper. “What you got, it don’t have to be a curse? Yeah? Don’t let anybody tell you different, a’right? You can do some real good with that if you ever want to.”

“Ah… thanks,” she says. Looking at Constantine like he’s some kind of freaking angel from on high or some shit. “Thanks,” she says again, nods. Seems to find her senses and finally makes a break for it with their orders.

“What the hell was that all about?” Dean demands.

“Psychic,” John says with an even bigger and even more smug smile. Takes a long (smug) drag of his cigarette before continuing. “Telepath, to be specific. Whatever you were thinking about her arse, she heard it. Didn’t seem to approve either. More’s the pity.”

“I… shit…”

“Yep.”

“You’re telling me she liked what _you_ were thinking?” Dean says with undisguised disbelief.

“Nah mate. She just can’t hear me.” He winks. “Protection magic’s a wonderful thing. You should try it some time.”

“No thanks,” Dean scowls. Magic freaks him out. No way is he risking turning into some creepy witch. _Not that there’s anything wrong with_ all _witches. Or, telepaths. Or whatever._ Dean thinks as clearly as he can.

Constantine just shrugs and takes a suggestive sip of his drink. Everything the dude does is suggestive though so that isn’t new. _Arg, damn it._ Everything Dean thinks is incriminating.

The Hellblazer gives Dean a _look_. He must be able to see Dean’s discomfort because he rolls his sleeve up dramatically and unties a little strip of engraved leather from his wrist. Then he throws the bracelet thing across the table. Dean almost misses the catch he’s so taken aback.

“What’s this?”

“Charm, it’ll make you… foggy. Filter the magic. Sorta. Doubt the bird’s even lis’ning in but if she were then that’ll help. Happy?”

Dean frowns but tries to tie the strip onto his wrist. After a few seconds Constantine gets sick of watching him fumble it, grabs his arm and slaps his other hand out of the way. Bites his cigarette stub so he has both hands free and ties the strap around Dean’s wrist.  It’s still flesh warm and Dean thinks he can feel it tingle with magic when it’s fastened.

“You sure this will work?”

“Mostly.” Constantine shrugs and lounges back in that sprawling cat-like way of his. “Oh, and it’s a gift. You can keep it. I gift it to you, et cetera. Gotta, for the magic to work.”

“Okay,” Dean shrugs uncomfortably. “In that case, I got you something too.” He tries for confidence to cover his awkwardness. He’s been waiting for a moment to do this anyway. May as well use it as a distraction now.

“Yeah?” Constantine says, slow and slightly mocking.

“Yeah,” Dean says and winks at him. Digs around in his inner pocket and grabs the four fresh IDs. Pulls out the two for Constantine and throws them across the table – mimicking John’s earlier casual manner. Tries not to bite his lip. Knows John is getting good at reading him (ha, _getting -_ always has been). He doesn’t want to show too much. “I picked up a bunch of new hardware for ‘em in New York a few weeks before we met up. It’s not a big deal. Thought they might be useful. You know, for cases… if you’re tagging along for a while?” Dean shuts up before he can embarrass himself further.

Hellblazer picks them up with more open curiosity than Dean was expecting. One US Marshals and one FBI. Dean is still young enough that he can’t always pull off FBI on his own. But he thinks Constantine will sell it for both of them if he needs to. Assuming he can ever actually do up that stupid tie.

“Brian Braddock?” Constantine says with open scorn. “I look like a Brian to you?”

“No, dumbass.” Dean glares at him. “It’s like the comics. It’s meant to make them easier to remember on the fly. Captain Britain? Remember? I _explained_ it to you? In _Texas_?”

“Oh yeah,” Constantine smiles like sin. So he _does_ remember. It was a couple of years ago – Dean wasn’t totally sure he would. “You were very… _instructive_. Excellent teaching methods, if I recall.”

“So you won’t need a refresher then?” Dean smirks back. This is more familiar. This he can do.

“Oh I didn’t say _that_ , mate.” Constantine leans over the table. “Now, show me yours.” Manages to be seductive and ridiculous in one breath. How does he _do_ that?

Dean laughs. Hopes the blush he can feel isn’t obvious. But he hands over the matched set with his own picture in them. If he was making up the other two it was no more trouble to polish of a new set for himself as well. Always handy to have extras. That’s what he’s telling himself anyway.

“Special Agent, Steven Rogers?” Constantine says. The smirk tells Dean that he absolutely remembers who that is.

Luckily for Dean’s sanity, if not his blush, it’s then that their waitress arrives with the food and clears her throat. Dean hurries to sit back up and look less like he was just committing identity fraud and blatantly flirting with the dude opposite him. Constantine just chuckles.

“Thanks, luv.” John grins up at Sookie. Dean’s still amused by the name.

She smiles shyly back at the Hellblazer as she hands him his biscuits and gravy. She gives Dean a small frown though when she hands over his burger.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Tries not to catch her eyes. Really hopes she _didn’t_ hear his thoughts about her ass when they walked in. Or her name just now. Damn it. What if Constantine’s stupid bracelet thing isn’t working…

“This is _not_ a biscuit and that ain’t gravy,” John says as soon as the waitress is (mostly) out of earshot - snapping Dean back to reality. He's scowling comically and prods his food like it might bite back. “Pretty sure this is _sick_ on scones.”

Dean laughs. Louder and longer than he should. But, just like anything and everything else to do with the stupid Hellblazer, he just can’t help it.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual I has a tumblr - <http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/>
> 
> Also, I'm super needy - please tell me what you think if you want to reward an attention addicted author! Every little comment makes my day and I love you all for reading the not-so-fevered imaginings of my odd little mind.


End file.
